System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]-Chapter 44: So he’s just a little stupid...

’Yeah. As if. Why would he put it here?’

Truthfully, it had only ever been a theory, nothing solid. Just a hunch Blake couldn’t quite shake. Alfred had to have it. He was the CEO, after all. If anyone had access to something like that, it would be him.

But even then... what kind of intelligent man would hide something so valuable in his own study?

’Then again,’ Blake thought dryly, ’he did lose the ring, or had it stolen. So there’s a very real chance he’s just an idiot...’

The man smiled at him as he stepped closer, his expression perfectly composed, perfectly polite.

"Is there something you’re curious about?"

Blake returned the smile, as if the question amused him. Curious? That was putting it lightly.

As he moved further into the room, drifting toward the corner where the desk came more clearly into view, he angled himself toward the window. To anyone watching, it would look like he was admiring the scenery outside.

In reality, he was counting drawers.

"Sir," Blake began smoothly, "I have to be honest, I’m rather curious about your thoughts on Trail-X. I never expected to be selected at the last minute. It must be quite an interesting topic for you."

Alfred didn’t react much. His posture remained composed, his demeanor unchanged.

"My thoughts..." he repeated, "As insincere as it may sound, I truly do not know what to think. But he is, without a doubt... something peculiar."

Blake’s brow twitched ever so slightly.

’Huh, isn’t Asher his disciple or something... like, did he just call him a something?’

"Rather," Alfred continued, stepping closer, that faint, imperceptible coldness returning with him, "I find myself curious about something as well. Why send your application so late? In all my conversations with your father, it never once came up that you held such interest in AL-TECH."

Ah.

Of course.

A reasonable question, maybe a little too reasonable?

And he was, quite frankly, completely unprepared for it.

Blake didn’t hesitate, though. If there was someone who could put him off guard, it was Myles.

"You see, Sir... I’m a bit shy," he said with a fake, self-conscious smile. "I was afraid to submit my application before. But after our conversation... I found a strange kind of courage."

Alfred looked at him for a moment, just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

"Is that so?" he said. "How interesting. At previous birthday gatherings, and even the most recent one, I don’t recall noticing such... admiration from you."

Blake scratched the back of his head, letting out an embarrassed laugh.

"Well, of course you wouldn’t, Sir. I tend to keep a low profile."

"Hmm."

Ring.

Ring.

The sharp sound cut through the room, crisp and intrusive. He glanced down at the screen, his expression shifting only slightly before he looked back up at Blake, that same composed smile returning.

"I must take this," he said. "Please, feel free to look around. The awards on the shelves may be of interest to you."

Blake’s eyes lit up.

"Of course, Sir. I’d be delighted."

And then, alfred simply... left. There was no hesitation or second glance, he simply walked out.

Blake stood still for a second after the door closed, the silence settling in like a held breath finally released.

’...Is he actually an idiot?’

Because that was... suspiciously easy.

Too easy.

Then again, a thought struck him, sharp and immediate.

The news.

A thief had been caught recently, tracked and identified using AL-TECH’s fingerprint recognition system.

Blake’s expression darkened.

"Damn it, of course he would be so uncaring about it..."

He clicked his tongue softly, irritation bubbling up. Touching anything would just get him caught and, every single action after that would look suspicious.

Because why would he touch the drawers or any other thing within the room, if not to search for something to steal?

"...Wait."

There was something Spoon had given him before. Something he had dismissed as an one-time use object.

’The mask...’

Blake straightened slightly.

"Spoon," he whispered, as lowly as possible.

A faint shimmer appeared beside him, subtle and nearly invisible, before the familiar presence manifested.

[ Yes, Dear Host. ]

"That mask you gave me, the one that changes my appearance. Does it also alter fingerprints? DNA? Anything like that?"

[ Dear Host, the mask was designed so that such identifiers cannot be obtained at all. ]

Blake blinked. His face screamed questions.

[ While wearing it, you do not leave fingerprints, DNA traces, or any biological residue. Even if you were to touch or lick an object, it would make no difference. Myles Cortez has far more advanced techniques, it was only natural to create this. ]

Blake stared ahead for a moment.

’Ah, this is much more useful than I had originally thought!’

His heart picked up slightly.

"Give it to me."

[ Understood. ]

The mask appeared in his hand almost instantly.

Blake glanced toward the door, tension tightening in his chest.

Alfred could come back at any moment.

No time to think.

He put it on.

"Okay," he muttered, exhaling.

He moved quickly.

The desk first.

Drawer by drawer, he opened them with carefully, scanning the contents without disturbing their arrangement. Papers, endless papers. Stacks upon stacks, meticulously organized.

’I’m not messing that up,’ one misplaced sheet would be obvious someone had been here, searching.

He closed the last drawer.

Nothing.

’This is bad.’

Next, the bookshelves.

He moved along them, opening smaller compartments, checking behind rows of books, running his fingers along hidden edges, testing for anything unusual.

Still nothing.

Minutes ticked by.

’Come on...’

Then, a soft sound.

A paper slipped free from between two books and fluttered down.

Blake froze.

Slowly, he bent down and picked it up.

His eyes narrowed.

’...What is this?’

It was old, clearly. The edges worn, the texture slightly rough with age.

But the writing was recent.

And the design, Blake’s breath caught slightly.

Ennora’s ring.

’Ah, at least there is something about it!’

And at its center there was a black stone.

’That’s, most definitely, the missing piece...’

There were notes scribbled beside it, incomplete. But one word stood out clearly, written with deliberate emphasis:

Underground.

Blake exhaled slowly.

"So maybe that’s where..."

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

His head snapped up.

"...Shit."

Without hesitation, he slipped the paper back exactly where it had been, adjusting the books just enough to hide any trace of disturbance.

He pulled the mask off, his real appearance snapping back into place.

"Spoon, storage, now."

The mask vanished just as the footsteps grew louder.

Blake stepped away from the shelves, forcing himself into a casual pace, pretending to browse aimlessly.

The door opened.

Alfred walked in.

Blake turned, offering a polite smile.

"I took a look at the awards," he said. "They’re truly impressive. But I didn’t dare touch anything else, so I ended up wondering what kind of books an esteemed man like yourself prefers."

Alfred regarded him calmly, as though nothing at all was out of place.

"I see."

Blake clasped his hands lightly.

"Actually, I should be going. I’ve already taken up too much of your time. I apologize if I caused any inconvenience."

"No trouble at all," Alfred replied.

Blake nodded once, then turned and left.

The moment he stepped out, he walked faster.

Then faster.

By the time he reached the stairs, he was practically rushing.

By the time he got outside, without saying goodbye to the staff, he felt dizzy.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, adrenaline still coursing through him.

"...That was way harder than I thought," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

But at least now, he had something.

"Underground..."

Blake let out a slow breath, his expression sharpening.

"Guess I know where I’m going next."

Although he couldn’t actually understand it.

’This is fucking annoying...’

Was there a secret place under the building, or was the stone hidden underground somewhere in a random mountain?

Then, yet another time, someone grabbed him.

This time, he could tell who it was.

’This was absolutely the only person I didn’t want to run into today.’

"Blake, what are you doing here?"